


Dinner to Eat and People to Meet

by Dreaming_M



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_M/pseuds/Dreaming_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few snapshots into the life and glorious times of three brothers and a giant robot lobster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I am not Chinese and hope I do not appropriate or misrepresent anything. I just really liked the triplets and dislike how little is in their tag. But please enjoy and have a laugh at anything I've messed up, or correct me!

The TV buzzes in the background along with the conversations of Crimson Typhoon's crew as Cheung claims a stool for himself at the CT snack bar. Jin and he had recently nabbed a few boxes of Pocari Sweat, which was getting distressingly hard to find these days. He remembered a few of the Australians becoming worried about the lack of bread, but his favourite – and rapidly disappearing – sports drink concerned him more.

He rolled his neck, feeling the pull and strain of each muscle. Training hadn’t been so bad, but both Hu and Jin had begged off to see their significant others, and while Crimson’s crew were good company, he wasn’t as easy with them as his more open younger brothers were. Jin was happy to talk mechanics with any of them, and Hu was learning Hindi from a Desi woman who recently joined. Cheung, on the other hand, preferred to keep to himself by himself. The small television had been set up a few weeks ago, with surprisingly good reception so close to sea. No one seemed to be paying it any particular attention, though. It was in English and seemed to be some sort of social event. He felt slightly awkward without the familar presence of his brothers around him, but it was an old childish feeling, as easy to shrug off as the urge to stick out your tongue at a slight.

‘... _particular piece was designed after none other than the local Crimson Typhoon!_ ’ The television announced. Cheung and a few others began to pay attention. He tried to hide his discomfort as a few of the crew stood around him, much more used to being in the forefront rather than the middle, but he ignored the irrational feeling of being blocked in.

There was a light laugh as they watched. “Hey, she’s making it look good!” One of them said. The woman was decked in red and gold, sharp and metallic, it was a design that echoed the aesthetics of both Crimson Typhoon’s dive suits and the jeager itself. He noticed with no small amount of amusement that she was also clad in Jin’s annoyingly hazardous elbow spike. Cheung focused on the woman’s face as she reached the end of the run way and turned back, and something struck him as important … even familiar. He leaned over to where an older man was sitting, an engineer, Cheung was fairly sure.

“Did you catch the model’s name?” He asked, eyes flickering between the TV and the man.

A loose shrug was returned. “Eh, Ai? I'm not sure,” he replied, shrugging, “I think my daughter’s mentioned her before,” He added musingly. Cheung pushed aside the nagging feeling near his neck to latch onto the conversation starter, “Oh?” He prompted, and listened of the next hour about a man’s struggle to relate to his teenage daughter, before personally writing her a note to be nicer to her father, accompanied by a quick photo as evidence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready!

The pilots of Crimson Typhoon were set to appear at a gala in almost an hour, and one certain pilot was having a hard time accepting that.

“I told you, I have a date! Can’t we cancel?” Jin whined, slumping over and batting away Hu’s attempts to put a tie on him. They had managed to suit up before Jin loudly and dramatically remembered a prior engagement he had tonight. Cheung sat on his bed in amusement and watched as Hu made helpless gestures as he trailed after Jin, who stomped this way and that across their room in a fit of pique. He was feeling much too worn to worry himself with Jin's antics. The oldest dragon concentrated instead on hhis own breathing, to slowly group himself together again.

The remaining two were left to their own devices. “Oh course, Jin,” Hu sighed mockingly, “we’ll not go to the event that put our names as one of the main attractions on all their invitations and you can go on a date with your, what, fourth girlfriend?” Hu guessed; whacking Jin’s calves with the fabric he was trying to put around his neck in irritation. Jin continued to trot away from him, though, and Hu determinedly trotted after him.

“Second girlfriend!” Jin snapped, slipping under his brother’s arm and plopping down on the bed beside his eldest brother, “I don’t want to disappoint anyone; but either I disappoint her, or the people at the show!” He said, his shoulder’s drooping as he dropped his head unto the other’s shoulder and giving a long, drawn out sigh.

"You can have a date in less than an hour," Cheung suggested. Jin scoffed into his big brother's neck.

"Maybe  _you_  can, my dates last a little  _longer_ than that." Jin sniggered, and soon began to laugh outright, until Hu macked him with the tie again to shut him up.

Cheung rubbed his head affectionately, feeling a little less tattered than a moment ago. Jin’s attractions seemed to resemble a rushing river than a rush of emotion, but they were no less important to him, and no doubt he was mostly angry at himself for forgetting the date of their scheduled appearance. They all knew that they’d go to the gala come rain or shine; they tried their best to shimmy out of most events like this; but a few of the PPDC benefactors were going to be there, and it was heavily encouraged that the team they so wanted to meet; their local heroes, attend. Hu sat on the bed opposite them, fixing his own bow-tie and Cheung wasn’t actually sure whose bed it was.

“One person or many, Jin?” Hu asks, flopping down as the fight left him. Hu had suffered heartache that morning; his boyfriend had dumped him, very kindly, for an old flame. Hu had taken it very well until he locked himself in the bathroom and smashed a mirror with an old hairbrush – which, given their lack of hair, was a mystery object near their sink – and refused to talk about it. Jin was still mulling over his very poor options.

“One person that means a lot to me, or strangers ….” He muttered sarcastically, but after a lapse into silence, he nodded, “I will take a lot of sad selfies in corners so she knows I’m upset I can’t be with her tonight.” He says firmly, standing up and toying with the sleeves of his suit. He seemed much happier now he had promised to be sullen.

“Fine!” Hu threw up his hands and stood up as well, grabbing Jin’s collar and pulling his closer, while waving the tie around in a menacing manner, “Just stay still and let me put this on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness, I will try to update regularly to make up for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty memory from Cheung you're welcome.

Jin had been invited to a party by an intimate friend of his. Not a girlfriend, just someone to spend the night with between fights. Hu was able to scrounge up some change so they could bring a bag of prawn crackers which he hugged protectively to his chest as they loped along the road. Cheung’s leg was still throbbing with pain from their last match, and none of them were particularly cleaned up and strictly presentable, but it would have to do.

When they got there, the party seemed to be in full swing. That is to say smoke hung low in the air and people were mostly dancing to thumping music. They were packed in a tiny apartment that smelt muggy and thick. There was food though, and they made sure to eat their fill of rice and squid as inconspicuously as possible before Jin found his friend and the dance floor and Hu joined a quiet card game. None of them were in the mood to smile or laugh, but their slightly stoic appearance didn’t clash with the rest of the crowd.

Cheung took up residence on a couch and spoke barely five words. These party-goers weren’t the kinds  to really give a shit though, and some of the girls cast an appreciative eye over his battered face, and one slurring man complimented a fight they’d won two weeks ago.

The next two hours pass by hazily; the music is shut off when a neighbour barges in and demands silence, and most of the guests leave for more livelier sights.

Jin is able to detach himself from his friend and the wall they had been seemingly glued to, long enough to bring a new comer. “This is Mae,” Jin says, and Cheung nods once to the skinny girl with half a head of hair, and she nods back.

“You have a wider jaw than Jin,” Mae tells him. Cheung nods; it’s true, and she smirks in triumph. “This is my friend Ai.” She adds, and nods to a girl standing next to her.

Cheung visibly pauses when he sees her. She’s an extremely beautiful girl; if Cheung didn’t see her out dated and heavily mended clothes he would question why she was in this part of town, but they do little to hinder her striking face. His pause makes Mae and Jin laugh, and Cheung is too grateful for his little brother’s chuckle to be embarrassed.

“Hi,” Ai says, seemingly unaffected by his reaction, “are you Cheung or Hu?” She asks.

“He’s Cheung, he’s the oldest.” Jin pipes up. They chat meaninglessly, before Mae excuses them to the bedroom, leaving Ai to sit next to Cheung in a way that took up as little room as possible. He squeezes himself against the armrest to accommodate her, but soon he begins to doze.

When he fully comes to, the room is deafeningly quiet. He sees the shapes of other people from the streetlight shining through the window. He guesses several people must have fallen asleep as well. It’s three in the morning and he’s dying for a smoke.

It wasn’t a common craving for him; he hated the smell and the taste, but right now he couldn’t care less. He didn’t usually smoke – an expensive habit he couldn’t afford both monetarily and fraternally – but tonight his throat felt clawed up and stuffed. He looks over at the coffee table and spots a pack of cigarettes innocently lying beneath a lighter that practically sparkled.

He grabs them both and carefully eases off the couch, unsure if Ai was still there or not, and steps over a few people to get to the large window. He sees Hu fast asleep on an armchair, and pauses to look him over properly to ensure that he was alright. Content, Cheung heads over to what he could now tell was a backdoor that led to a balcony.

Cheung slipped outside as quietly as he could. Now he stood he could see it was less of a balcony and more of a roof with a chain-link fence around it.

He sits against the fence and looks down at the city. Hong Kong was still bustling, but muted to him, somehow. He vaguely hopes he wasn’t losing his hearing. He could live without an ear or two; he had four more.

Glancing down at the flinched goods, he notices the lighter had actually been sparkling; it was bejewelled with pink and white plastic gems, and he frowns as he digs out a cigarette.

“Who’s lighter is this, anyway ….” He mutters to himself, and he puts the cigarette between his lips.

“Mine, actually,” He jumps to his feet, and locks eyes with Ai. Swallowing, he takes the cigarette out of his mouth.

The first words out of his mouth are; “Please don’t tell my brothers.” He doesn’t know if it’s his spooked expression or she was just odd, but it makes her laugh lightly.

Ai’s gaze drops to his full hands. Cheung follows them stupidly, before realising she was looking at her lighter. He hands it over, too worn to be ashamed – he’s stolen worse things, more important things – and notices that her eyes linger on the packet of cigarettes. They must have been hers too.

With a sigh, Cheung hands them over too. She plucks the cigarette he’s taken out of his fingers and lights it herself, taking a deep drag as she moves to sit next to him. Wary, but tired, he sits with her. He crouches slightly, knees up so he could rest his arms on them, and closes himself off as she sits with her feet tucked under her, one hand gripping the fence and another the cigarette.

She smiles as soon as he glances over to her, such a pretty smile, and holds the cigarette up to his lips. Grateful, he closes his lips over the end and takes a deep lungful of poison. He breaks away and slowly exhales, watching the cloud dissipate into the air.

“You could have asked.” She says lightly.

He scoffs; asking was for when the sea wasn’t stained and the city was unrevenged. Asking was for his parents, when they were alive. “Not these days, I couldn’t.” Cheung answers. Even when the words pass his lips, he can feel each syllable against his tongue and its weight pulls his head down towards his chest. He knows his own head will drag him down deeper if he keeps fixating on each little thing that pressed down on him; his brothers would wake and found out and he only wants to let them rest.

He wants to rest too. He’s fighting almost every day for not only his own life, but his brother’s too, and he didn’t know how to get out anymore. Maybe he’s being bitter and full of angst, but he’s tired and he misses his parents tonight, so he lets himself be bitter and angst-ridden.

“Asking just isn’t the thing these days.” Ai replies, her tone too light to take him seriously. He doesn’t blame her; he’s just some bruised up kid with bandaged knuckles that stole her smokes. To be fair, she looked like a kid too.

She takes a second breath, and watches the smoke flow from her mouth; a white cloud from pink lips. “You shouldn’t smoke you know, might yellow those pretty white teeth.” He says. He doesn’t even know if he’s trying to joke.

Ai blinks, and smiles widely, “Thank you.”

He shrugs, heat graces his cheeks, “I call it how I see it.” He grunts, trying to keep a deep frown on his face.

“Well, thank you for looking at me so nicely then.” She tells him.

“Sure.” He whispers, looking at his elbow. He had a scrape there he needed to be careful with.

“You shouldn’t smoke either.” She adds. Her hand moves from the fence to his shoulder, and he doesn’t dare move as she uses his shoulder as a support as she frees her legs from under her to find a more comfortable position on the ground. She removes her hand and he breathes again.

“It’s alright, I barely do.” He says. Ai casts a glance to the cigarette packet and back to him, but he doesn’t know why, “Probably won’t have many teeth left to yellow soon anyway.” He mutters. He doesn’t know if she hears him either, and she doesn’t tell him either way.

After each inhale, she holds the cigarette up to his lips, and he also takes a drag. Her hands seem to echo delicacy; but the once delicate tips of her fingers were calloused and her knuckles were bony and worn. Cheung pointedly looks away from them; he had no time to stare at a girl’s hands. They don’t say anything anymore, just sit in the darkness.

When the cigarette is finished she snubs it out between them and he stands up. She doesn’t move, though she gives him a wave as he walks back inside. He doesn’t return it, his limbs feel like lead. He wants to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more coming if you'll like it. The snack bar was made up by the tumblr user most common in the 'luu triplets' tag (you can't miss them), it was so cute, I used it. Sorry for the odd ending.


End file.
